The Mighty Fall
by AconitumLuparia
Summary: Tom Riddle crashes a wedding. And something else. "It's too late, Tom." She said, blinking her eyes repeatedly to keep the tears at bay. "No, it's not." He countered, convinced. "It isn't too late until you say 'I do,' inside that church."


Hello folks!

So, this is what I've been writing for Tomione Day, I hope you will enjoy it as much as I did!

Hundred thanks to weestarmeggie for beta reading

Let me know what you think!

Besos, V

-*o*-

The shards of glass stuck into his knuckles as he flexed his hand again and again. The pain was only a dull ache, echoing into the recess of his mind. He was seething with rage, the force of his fist enough to shatter the mirror but not enough to satisfy his burning desire to destroy something.

She had slipped from his fingers like the blood that was currently dripping onto the floor. He was vain enough to admit that he had lost that particular battle, but he would let nothing come between him winning the war.

-*o*-

Hermione sat with her back straight, a heavy heart and a fake smile plastered on her face.

Each pin added to her way-too-glamorous updo felt like a stab right through her ribs.

She wanted this, she reminded herself. This was right for her. This. Nothing else.

She didn't truly believe it.

-*o*-

The first time they met she had managed to catch the bus by chance. The driver had waited for her before abruptly closing the door and starting down the road. She had been knocked into a boy that was standing nearby, who managed to get a good grip on her before she tumbled to the ground.

It had taken a look. A single look and they had both been doomed.

Unfortunately, fate didn't know it had to deal with two equally headstrong characters.

-*o*-

They were introduced two weeks after. Neither of them had been able to remove the other from their minds, thus learning each other's names had been glorious.

Heavens bless Draco Malfoy and his obnoxious Boxing Day party.

Their personalities had both clashed and blended together in ways they had never experienced before. They talked all night long, of this and that, and even the occasional silence hadn't bothered them.

It felt so natural. It felt perfect.

-*o*-

It started out simply enough, a few times out, laughs, fiery conversations, and they were already so deeply caught up in each other that they felt secure in brushing their friends' warnings off.

"It's happening way too fast", they said. "You two need to slow it down."

They never labelled it as a relationship.

-*o*-

"I never knew it could be like this," she'd said, gently removing her small frame from on top of him. She laid down next to him, his arm around her shoulders as she rested her head on his chest. They were both equally naked and sweaty, the natural result of their passionate coupling.

It wasn't their first time, far from it, but they certainly had gotten more adventurous with time.

He smiled, devious. "It can be so much more." She laughed and then gasped as he tangled his hand in her curls and pulled a little. She lifted an eyebrow, inquisitorial and laughed again as with an easy move he crawled on top of her.

She moaned in surprise as his renewed erection brushed against her hip and she looked at him with a playful smirk. "Again?" she asked, amused and secretly pleased by his impressive stamina.

"Again," he answered, good-naturedly, with a smirk of his own, and guided himself back inside her.

-*o*-

"It's too late, Tom." She said, blinking her eyes repeatedly to keep the tears at bay.

"No, it's not." He countered, convinced. "It isn't too late until you say 'I do,' inside that church." He gestured vaguely towards the general direction of the other building. His tone was far from pleading, but still, it held a sad and desperate note to it that went straight to her heart. They both knew that this was their last confrontation.

As she lifted her gaze towards his face she caught sight of his hands trembling, though he was controlling it rather firmly, and she almost approached him to hold them. She looked him in the eyes and found, in those deep blue orbs, the answers to all the questions she had ever had. It hurt. It was too late.

"I can't," she denied again, and it was true. She couldn't back down, she wasn't the type to back down on her word for a more appealing proposal. What he was asking of her went against all of her own morals and for a split second, she hated him for it.

How dare he? Light a flame and then thrust the burning matches into her hands, offering her the possibility of a choice that would affect so many others after herself.

Hermione turned her back on him and fixed her gaze out of the large window. A bird flew from one tree to another, lifting in its landing a chorus of melodies from its other companions. She wondered why life couldn't be that simple.

She heard a sigh behind her and was almost expecting Tom to take his leave when she felt his chest press to her back, closer than they had been for a very long time. As she relaxed slightly in his grip, his hands drew patterns on her bare forearms.

The gesture was so simple, so domestic and she wanted to cry. She wanted to curl into a ball and scream at this man. Why? Why now? Why are you making this so difficult for me?

She didn't. She didn't cry, didn't scream. Instead, she squared her shoulders and pushed him away. He took a step back and balled his hands into fists.

The wind carried the sound of the clock tower striking half-past twelve. It was time to go.

She didn't look at him again, too afraid to crumble in the wake of his insistence. She heard him growl and, closing the door behind herself, she figured the sound of destruction was brought by the tall fake marble statue smashing into pieces on the ground as he was, at last, left alone in the dressing room.

-*o*-

He left one day.

It was a cold day and as hard as she tried to remember the details, everything was lost to her besides the numbness that had enveloped her when she had found his note.

She had never believed him capable of such a thing, might have even thought it was too cowardly to belong to his person.

The more she tried to understand it, the more the whole situation failed her. She tried time and time again, to pinpoint a moment in time where he might have hinted at something that made him unhappy. Had she missed something? Who was at fault here?

Hours became days. Days became weeks, and weeks turned to months.

He never came back.

-*o*-

"Do you want to go out for dinner tonight, with me and Ginny?" Harry asked, a grim expression on his face. Eyes sad but understanding. He knew it would all come to this. He knew he would have broken her.

"No," she answered. Simple and truthful, as she had the past hundred times he had asked.

No matter, he'd try again tomorrow.

-*o*-

The rhythmic beeping of the machine resonated through the room in tandem with her heartbeats. Hot white light blinded her as she tried to open her eyes for the first time in what felt like forever. Her parched mouth and heavy head made her think that, indeed, she had been asleep a while. It took her a few moments to adjust to the light and in the end, she was able to understand where she was.

It was a hospital room.

Overwhelming panic washed over her and she registered the notion that she didn't quite remember why she was there.

-*o*-

The sound of cracked bones echoed in the quiet room. With each punch, the now motionless form on the floor bled some more.

It didn't look like a person anymore. Good, he thought.

The hollow feeling in his chest eased a bit with each hit, almost as if he was feeding it. His chuckles bled, torn to the bone and relentless.

" _Die_ ," he whispered and as if the person on the floor were anything more than a doll, it complied and exhaled its last breath.

-*o*-

" _Takotsubo cardiomyopathy, also known as stress cardiomyopathy, is a type of non-ischemic cardiomyopathy in which there is a sudden temporary weakening of the muscular portion of the heart. This weakening may be triggered by emotional stress, such as the death of a loved one, a break-up, rejection from a partner or constant anxiety. It is more commonly known as broken heart syndrome."_

Hermione had read the definition at least a thousand times. Over and over.

She felt so stupid, she couldn't believe she had let herself go so far.

She couldn't believe she had let him hurt her to this point.

When she had woken up, alone and understandably scared, a nurse had readily saved her from her own grim thoughts.

"I'm going to call your doctor now," she'd said, a kind smile on her lips. "He'll explain everything to you, don't worry."

"You were lucky, Miss. Granger!" he said, "you fainted at work, and when you were brought here it positively looked like you had had a heart attack." The doctor continued, studying her medical chart. "That wasn't the case, however, thankfully."

He moved from the end of her bed and approached her confidently.

"Your case was less severe," he explained, it looked like it saddened him a lot to say, "you've experienced what we colloquially call 'broken heart syndrome'."

She had frowned at that, it sounded so fictional. Was it even a real thing?

As it turned out, it was and she had experienced it without even knowing it. All she had felt was a constricting chest pain, nothing different than what she had been feeling since she had found that damned note.

-*o*-

Nothing could ever describe the thrill he had felt the second the door had opened. It was like standing in front of an ageing mirror. The person in front of him looked so much like himself but, the more he had examined him, the more he noticed substantial differences.

For one, he had worn his emotions on his sleeve. Even then, he had stood at the door, one hand still on the handle and the other balled into a fist. An ugly grimace had rendered his features much more unpleasant to look at.

"What are you doing here?" The man had asked, tone hard and clearly annoyed.

Tom had almost laughed. It had been such a stupid question. He had known introductions weren't needed, the situation had been unmistakable.

"Is that how you greet your son?" He'd questioned, cocking his head with a playful smile on his lips. "I want to talk."

The man had narrowed his eyes and had studied him for a moment before clearly deciding he was harmless enough. He'd moved, holding the door a little more open and had welcomed him inside with a gesture.

He had come seeking answers, _why did you leave me? Why did you leave mum? Why did you let her die? Why did you -_

But for the first time ever, words failed him. He looked around the house and was greeted with such splendour and opulence that he couldn't stop the green-eyed monster from gnawing at his chest.

In hindsight, he should have predicted it. He knew of his father's large income. He was a wealthy man, with great possessions. It was clear, in the way he stood proud as Tom observed his home that he regretted nothing. This odious man didn't even possess the dignity to feign shame. Tom wanted to make sure he knew he had a price to pay.

Now, as he stood in front of the grand fireplace, he wanted to laugh at this man's - his father's - stupidity. He should have known better. Scum didn't deserve forgiveness.

His thoughts flew to the only person that had ever loved him with all her heart and he wondered if he too - after what he had done to her - didn't deserve forgiveness anymore.

He watched the remnants of the body as they were consumed by the fire and started plotting a way to get her back. He needed her.

-*o*-

She agreed to go out with Ron a few weeks after her hospitalization. She was in need of a change. She needed to get herself back together.

As far as first dates go, it turned out to be a rather nice one, albeit very ordinary.  
He took her out for dinner at a nice Japanese restaurant and he monopolised the conversation almost the whole evening. He was an easygoing person, symple in his vision and understanding of the world.

She figured she didn't need anything more.

-*o*-

She wanted more, she craved so so much more.

"What a pretty dress," he whispered in her ear, with a touch of sarcasm, as he took the seams on her lower back and tore them apart. The mildly expensive wedding dress came apart in a single motion and she didn't waste any time before discarding it completely.

Her mouth crashed down on his with wild abandon. It had been so long since she had last felt such unbiased attraction, such passion. She had missed him greatly.

He kissed her neck, slowly descending on her collarbone, leaving behind bite marks and sensitive skin.

"I need you, Tom," she confessed, already panting. He loved hearing her say it out loud.

-*o*-

She had known, the second she had slipped into the backseat of the car, that she had made the wrong choice. No one could make her as happy as Tom had. Even behind all the hurt and the sense of betrayal she knew he must have had a good reason to leave.

She had wanted answers and she knew she still needed them. Needed him.

Tapping on the shoulder of her driver, she asked him to turn the car around and take her back, hoping he was still there waiting for her.

For a brief moment she called herself weak, and hated herself for her actions. She wondered about sweet, nice, simple Ron, and the humiliation she was about to condemn him to.

But eventually, she reasoned, he would understand.

They all would.

-*o*-

Soft curls tickled him as he gently caressed her nape. She was nestled half on top of him in a naked embrace. How he had missed loving her as he just had.

"I've killed my father," he said, voice hollow and dark. It was a whisper, soft and weightless, but it crashed on her like a thousand stones.

It took her a moment to actually register the words, and she froze completely. Her stomach twisted and she felt the beginning of an headache in the recess of her mind.

She slowly lifted her head to look up at him.

"What?" She asked, fixing her wavering gaze on his. It was all there, a deep-rooted pain, anger and a satisfied hunger for revenge. She recognised the muted call for understanding shining in his eyes. _I can bear no judgement,_ it said, _not from you. I know I am a monster but, please, don't send me to hell. Not yet._

Everything clicked back together, then. Every question was answered with single sentence and she was almost relieved. It almost felt good. There was peace after the full stop.  
The realisation settled deep into her bones and she shivered, this time for a billion different reasons.

-*o*-

 _Baby, we should have left our love in the gutter where we found it._

 _'Cause you think, you think your only crime is that you got caught._

 _Oh, how the mighty fall in love._

-*o*-

 _The end._


End file.
